


Always Up and Ahead

by cherryroad (summerstorm)



Category: Gossip Girl, St Trinian's (2007)
Genre: Crossover, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-03
Updated: 2009-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-05 00:03:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/pseuds/cherryroad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The van Serena's taking this road trip in breaks down on a random deserted road in the middle of nowhere, and while the two people of age in their group go look for help, the rest of them set up an impromptu hockey game in a nearby field.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Up and Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "Serena/Kelly, hockey" at comment_fic.

Serena goes to England during spring break, when she's still supposed to be in Connecticut. The only surprising thing about the fact that she ends up spending a week at what is, according to the media, the most dangerous boarding school in the country is the way it all goes down.

The van Serena's taking this road trip in breaks down on a random deserted road in the middle of nowhere, and while the two people of age in their group go look for help, the rest of them set up an impromptu hockey game in a nearby field.

It's a pretty intense hockey game: Mike is high and drives his stick into someone's knee to the point of bleeding, and Sarah falls off her heels at one point and ends up covered in mud and with a potentially broken ankle. Serena stays mostly clean and completely unharmed, for what it's worth, but she's sweaty as hell when she sees them coming.

A group of them, like they're getting ready for combat, except their eyes are less aggressive and more simply _predatory_.

Serena's pretty much the only one standing—with the stick over her head because she just scored, and she's still grinning for it—and, when the girls get closer, the one with the Cleopatra bob stops and looks her over, practically checks her out.

Serena returns the favor. The girl's practically asking to be ogled—the skirt highlighting her ass, the red lips, her long eyelashes, the way her shirt squeezes her breasts like a pleasantry, like they'd rather be out and in Serena's hands—if this little exchange doesn't end in sex, Serena will gladly eat the puck.

"You're good," the girl with the Cleopatra bob says.

"You're hot," Serena says, mostly because Mike would tease her forever if she didn't take the chance, partly because she's in another country, and partly because, hell, the girl just _is_.

"I'm Kelly Jones," the girl offers, holding out her hand, her hips leaning to the left when she takes a step forward.

"Serena van der Woodsen," Serena replies, and shakes her hand.

Kelly doesn't even flinch at the sweat. Gets a glint in her eye instead, like this is exactly what she was hoping for. "Well," she says, "I see you don't mind getting your hands dirty."

"What's the point if you don't?" Serena points out cheerfully.

Kelly nods as an observation, pouting a little—not the slightest bit ridiculous, but damn if Serena doesn't want to kiss that pout off her face.

"Do _you_ have a point?"

"We're playing Wycliffe next week," Kelly says, "we'd like to recruit you."

Serena thinks it over, mostly for the sake of looking ponderous, and says yes.

The recruitment is not exactly what she was expecting.

Sure, they spend some time on the field. She teaches them things. She reprimands them when they hit each other, enough that by the end of the week they think before they break, though that has something to do with her two most aggressive players getting into a stick-to-stick fight around the end and sending each other to the hospital.

It's still progress.

Kelly oversees everything, and, when they're done, silently guides her places.

The first day, it's a broom closet.

"I thought this was a boarding school," Serena says, "don't you have _beds_?"

That's when Kelly rips half the buttons off Serena's shirt, and goes in for the kill—lips and teeth round one nipple, palm massaging her other breast, free hand roaming up her skirt and into her underwear.

"Not complaining, are we?" Kelly says, breathing against her breast, and Serena shudders.

The next day, they play until sundown, and Kelly waits until they're all gone to slip in the shower with her.

Serena takes the chance to mess up Kelly's perfect hair, running her fingers through it until the product's gone and all her make-up's gone and it's just Kelly's clean face and naked body against the tiles, and she seems smaller somehow, less imposing.

"Fell off our high horse, did we?" Serena echoes mockingly, and Kelly bucks against her hand to get Serena's fingers deeper inside her.

Serena's more than happy to oblige.

On Thursday, Kelly just walks up to her with her usual holier-than-thou step, high heels making her hover over Serena when she reaches her.

Kelly seems to be trying to stare her down or something.

"Is there anything you want?"

And Kelly licks her lips slowly, surely, meaning to provoke a reaction, and kisses Serena in the middle of the hockey field.

Kelly being Kelly means that it's not just a kiss. It's the kind of kiss that goes straight to Serena's everywhere and makes her lids heavy—nothing to do with the unusually sunny day—, her knees weak, her brain a useless mass of goo.

"Still on my high horse, van der Woodsen," Kelly says, and walks off, wiggling her hips in the process, making Serena want to spank her for purely recreational reasons.

She sleeps in the van that night, and tries to convince the group to stay there a while longer. The guys are pretty much down with it immediately—one of them's already 'dating' that girl with the crazy hair, Celia, Serena thinks, because she's awful at names and calls her Crazy Hair on the field—and it's only thirty minutes after they light up that Serena manages to convince the rest of them.

The following morning, Chelsea sits down on the bench next to her while the girls are training, and, between grimace and grimace at Serena's dirty sweatshirt and hair up in a ponytail, she says,

"So," and she punctuates this with a bubble of gum and its subsequent pop, "you found out why she's like that yet?"

Serena doesn't look at her, keeps looking at the field, but answers, "Like what?"

"Head Girl. In so many ways. It's almost a marketing tool, her title. Always up and ahead, always a head of blond hair between her legs."

Serena's getting tired of being a wild child, of being the party girl, but it's good to have that background so things like this just don't faze her.

Except for the way she automatically squirms, and later crawls down Kelly's body, tickles her belly with her still wet from the shower hair, and _moans_ when Kelly reaches out to push Serena's head down and parts her own legs wider to give Serena better access.

Serena hasn't even done this before, is the thing, but she feels like an equal when it comes to Kelly, even a little over her as far as self-awareness goes, so she just takes in the scent and the wetness pooling under her tongue, and keeps licking Kelly's clit and crooking her fingers until Kelly's moaning into it, her breasts bobbing as she arches up with a sigh.

Serena kisses up to Kelly's navel, to her nipples, up to her mouth and their naked bodies pressing together, and feels like she's falling apart when Kelly—Kelly with her full lips and her ridiculously twisty tongue and her multifaceted title—goes down on her in return.

All in all, it's a really good week, partly something like a peak for Serena to start climbing down her wild partying onto relative normalcy—enough to go back to her life in New York in the fall, like she's been thinking about since Eric's e-mails became oddly cryptic, started to worry her—and partly something like lighting up in a van and getting stuck in the middle of nowhere and meeting and greeting a really hot girl and playing hockey wildly and without a net.

The team works together and wins fair and square, proof that Serena was there to train them.

Of course, they also manage to break a leg and a rib or two, but St. Trinian's wouldn't be St. Trinian's if it ever played by the rules.


End file.
